Holy of holies Confessions of an anarchist [by J. E. Barlas] |
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8
IV.
[The scorn that shows to others undisguised]
The scorn that shows to others undisguisedThe haughty gestures of thy queen-like mood,
Thy royal beauty, and thine ancient blood
Conspire to honour me, poor and despised,
For song, by the mean hucksters nothing prized
Who worship wealth, nor ever understood
Me in my song, thee in thy womanhood,
Each in our loftier spheres imparadised.
Oh wed not thou with one of these, a slave
To lay thy fortune on a harlot's knee,
Whose native vice shall loathe thy stately bed.
But be thy choice one simple, high, and brave,
Whom I may honour as I honour thee.
But these base times have none: so never wed.
Aug. 1st, 1885.
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